The Everlasting Hunt
by thefevercalledliving
Summary: Obligatory Purgatory Oneshot: Dean finds his rhythm in purgatory and comes to a realization.


Dean wasn't sure how long it had been, hours or years, but he had finally found his rhythm. _Slash, slash, run, hide, breathe._ Each turn in the forest brought a new monster. Each hint of respite was tainted with the oncoming hunt. The ongoing hunt. The everlasting hunt. He sharpened his knife on outcropping rocks. _Slash, slash, run, hide, breathe._ In the beginning, he'd managed better. But soon the smell of Dean Winchester burrowed into the forest and every creature with a personal vendetta seemed to be catching his heels. _Slash, slash, run, hide, breathe. _Sometimes it was easy. Shapeshifters, skinwalkers, ghouls, and vampires were fair prey. Rugaru he ran from. Werewolves he hid from. _Slash, slash, run, hide, breathe. "_Cas doesn't fight anymore." At least that's what the angel kept whispering to himself over and over as he cut into monsters beside the elder Winchester. Sometimes he would disappear, but Dean didn't mind. He could handle himself. _Slash, slash, run, hide, breathe._

Now Dean was running. The stink of his own blood seemed to pierce his senses, though Dean wasn't sure if he was just imagining it. He _was_ sure, however, that the trail dripping out of his mangled shoulder would be unmistakeable. He ran a few hundred feet further then doubled back to hide beneath the underbrush. He ripped off a pant leg, biting into his lip as his over-worn muscles protested against the struggle. He had just finished wrapping up his shoulder when he heard the werewolf prowling across the forest floor. Dean wouldn't be found. He was hiding in his own scent trail. After a few minutes, he heard the sound of footfalls disappear, and he slowly crawled out of hiding. He was about twenty yards away when the rapid pound of paws alerted him to his mistake. There was no running or hiding now. He had been able to kill one werewolf with a very lucky shot to the heart with his silver knife. Well, he wasn't exactly sure if anything really got killed here, or if they were just bounced back to some other corner of the forest to continue the hunt. He didn't pretend to believe that he'd have similar luck this time. He was fairly certain that he wouldn't be resurrected somewhere, but he didn't have any other option but to stand his ground. Better to face this thing head on, then to be taken down running.

He saw its eyes before the rest of its outline appeared. It was running, charging, snarling. It was almost on him now. A few more seconds. Dean set his jaw, aimed his knife, and closed his eyes. _Breathe_.

He felt a slight breeze and the flutter of wings. Opening his eyes, the werewolf had disappeared. Another shudder in the air, and he was almost knocked down by the weight of a falling angel. Dean checked their immediate perimeter and laid Cas down against a tree. The angel was smiling. "Cas doesn't fight anymore," he said confidently. "I know," Dean replied as he pulled off the tattered trench coat to see the extent of the damage. It wasn't bad. An old wound had opened up just under his ribs. Dean pressed the coat against the wound, running his fingers gingerly across the angel's ribs to check for breaks, stopping when Cas hissed. "You need to be more careful," he grumbled. Cas placed a hand on Dean's good shoulder. "You were hurt." Dean just stared for a while. Cas tilted his head, slowly taking in the hunter's expression. "You're welcome," he said. Dean just grunted. "Say, what did you do to the werewolf anyway? Did you just take him somewhere else?" he asked. "I dropped him from above the forest," the angel replied matter-of-fact-ly. For a second, he seemed like Castiel, old Castiel. For just that moment, they could have been anywhere - on any hunt. Dean laughed. "Of course you did. What's it look like above the forest?" Dean grimaced. It seemed Cas had been sporting a dislocated shoulder for some time. "Hang on, Cas, I need to reset your shoulder." Dean moved over to the angel's other side and firmly placed one hand on his back, and one on his upper arm. "On the count of three. One -" Dean shoved the shoulder back into place. Cas hadn't flinched or cried out. Instead, he merely stared into Dean's eyes and said one word: "Crimson." "What?" Dean asked. "Above the forest," Cas replied, "is crimson. Blood oceans hang above the trees." "Well, that sounds like fantastic decorating," Dean said, checking the rest of the angel for hidden injuries. "You need to rest, Cas. Go somewhere for a while and hide." It was when he was taking care of Cas that he felt the most human. Then the wind shifted and the smell of rotting flesh headed their way. "Shapeshifters," Dean whispered, crouching beside the angel and baring his teeth, "Lots of them by the smell of it. You might want to head out, Cas." Cas nodded and pulled out the blade Dean had given him. "Cas doesn't fight anymore."

The first shifter looked like Sam. It was an old game, and Dean was tired of it. He was slashing into his baby brother's face as Jo came up behind him. Cas took her out. He'd taken out Anna too, though he'd seemed to hesitate a bit at that particular kill. Slowly the corpses were building up around them. They had to move before they lost their footing. Back on the rhythm. Back on the hunt. _Slash, slash, run, hide, breathe. _Dean might have felt the most human when taking care of Cas, but it was in the hunt that he felt most alive. He felt more alive than he had back home. More alive since before hell. This place, this purgatory, had just the right amount of pain for Dean to think that this was what he deserved. Heaven had been a joke, and earth was full of loss and disappointment. But here, there was no world to save. His injuries told him he was alive. The angel beside him told him he wasn't alone. There might be no great purpose to it all, but Dean had had enough of great purposes by now. He would have liked to have been able to say that purgatory had changed him, but Dean was certain he'd been this way all along. A killer. A monster, just like the rest of them. _This_, he thought, _is where I belong_. The everlasting hunt. _Slash, slash, run, hide, breathe._


End file.
